


Techme!Merlin

by Lisztful



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU.  Merlin is a computer tech, Arthur is a closeted corporate type with a big ole' gay porn stash.  Much staring at hands, awkwardness and eventual sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Techme!Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> For the Merlin Kink meme 7 prompt, Arthur/Merlin, modern AU. Arthur's computer crashes, so he brings it to the shop to have it fixed. Merlin is the technician who discovers gigabytes worth of gay porn in Arthur's hard drive. Arthur denies ever downloading any of it. Merlin doesn't believe him. Bonus if there's a scene in which the boys end up watching some together, but Arthur is more interested in staring at Merlin.

The repair shop doesn't look like much. Merlin's Tech Magic, reads the sign, and while Arthur does appreciate the lack of any charming wizard graphics alongside it, he's still a bit skeptical of the modest looking place. Still, Lance swore the owner was some sort of genius, and that guy couldn't tell a lie if his mother's life depended on it. Arthur parallel parks neatly in front of the store and steps out of his car with a sigh, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder and turning to double-check the lock.

The shop door opens with a pleasant jingle, the slatted blinds shifting in time with the bell above the doorjamb. Inside, the place is slightly more like Arthur expected a computer store to look, a collection of techie magazines and machine parts, along with bright advertisements and framed product reviews. There's a glass display case to the left of the door, and behind it a tall, slight man with an unruly mop of dark hair is talking on the telephone.

"Yeah, it does that sometimes, just try restarting it," the man says, then looks up. "Hang on a moment, please," he says into the phone, then makes brief but friendly eye contact with Arthur.

"Hi," he says, pressing the telephone receiver against his chest. "Is this a spare parts thing, or do you need a repair?"

"Repair," Arthur says, gesturing at his bag.

"Right, I'll just finish this call first, if that's all right." He waits for Arthur's nod, then returns the phone to his ear. "Okay, how does it look now?"

Arthur takes this opportunity to have a closer look at the shopkeeper. He's not exactly handsome, but there's something very compelling about him, whether it's the slim jeans, the button down that he wears un-tucked with a casually distracted air, or the thin glasses perched upon his nose. His hands flutter against the counter as he talks, flying over an imaginary keyboard as he listens to something on the other end of the telephone line. These are the sort of hands a computer guy ought to have, Arthur thinks, and is a little entranced by the long, slender fingers and neatly squared off nails, connected by a fine network of bone that drifts in and out of visibility as his fingers tap restlessly.

He has a kind, soothing voice, too, and while his lip quirks against a charming dimple when he says, "Ah yes, the hard drive really ought to be attached. Sorry, thought that bit was implied," he isn't at all condescending about it.

The shopkeeper glances over at him and grins apologetically, apparently mistaking Arthur's fumbled once-over for impatience, and Arthur tears his surprisingly interested gaze away to browse through a software display.

"Sorry about that," the shopkeeper says a moment later, his voice pitched a bit louder than before. "Some people just don't live well with technology."

"It's all right," Arthur says, although secretly he's a little afraid that he's one of those people.

"Okay. Repair, is it?" he says, and gestures Arthur closer with a graceful wave of his lightly muscled forearm.

"Yeah." Arthur sets his bag on the counter and pulls out his laptop. "It started acting strangely three days ago, and last night it froze completely. I haven't been able to do anything with it since then."

"Hmm," he says. "And you tried restarting?"

Arthur shoots him a withering look. "Yes I tried restarting."

"Okay," he says, and quirks him a little grin. "Just making sure." He reaches for a legal pad and a pen and jots down a few notes in a sharp, elegant hand. "So, three days ago. How did this start?"

"It was really sluggish at first," Arthur replies, thinking back. "Programs wouldn't open, or they'd take a really long time to open, and it just kept getting worse until it stopped altogether."

The shopkeeper nods interestedly. "Okay, were you doing anything you don't usually do? Downloading from a torrent or clicking on a link you'd never seen before or something?"

Arthur shakes his head no, slowly. There was the porn, of course, but that was hardly an unusual thing for him to be downloading, and it had never given him problems before.

"All right," he says, and glances down at the legal pad. "Oh, do you have your drive backed up? On a disk or a portable hard drive?"

Arthur stares helplessly at him.

"Ok, no on back-up," he says hurriedly, and looks up at Arthur with a kindly smile. "Don't worry, I'm going to start on this straight away. Now, if you'll just fill out this form, I'll call you when it's ready. We'll sort out the price when I know just what's off with it, yeah?"

Arthur fills out the form, penciling in his name and number with a flourish that his father made him practice for months before allowing him to sign any company forms. "Thanks," he says, reaching for his bag. "Seriously."

The shopkeeper pushes the bag across the counter at him, his fingers bushing Arthur's knuckles as he reaches for the strap. Arthur takes it, surprised at the shock of the cool fingers against his own. It was just a little hint of a touch, for god's sake.

"Great, see you in a few days," the shopkeeper says, then glances down at the form and adds, "Arthur."

"Right, a few days," Arthur says, feeling strangely flustered. He's halfway out the door before he asks, "What's your name, then?"

"Merlin," says the shopkeeper. "Hence the name on the stupid sign."

"Right," Arthur says again. "Goodbye, Merlin."

Over the next few days, Arthur can't get Merlin the computer tech out of his head. It's strange; he's had these infatuations with men before, but never so utterly pervasive as this one. Every time he shakes hands with someone, one of his father's partners, or while closing a deal at the office, he can't help but think of Merlin's fingers tapping on the countertop. Every time his cell phone buzzes, he thinks of how kind and patient Merlin sounded on the telephone. That leads to thinking about how he would sound if he wasn't patient, if he was desperate or breathless or—oh good lord. Arthur clunks his head against his desk and gives up, heading to the single-stall bathroom for a wank.

Usually the little infatuations go away, he thinks plaintively, while leaned up against the bathroom wall thumbing his erection. There's the porn of course, which is all man on man stuff, but that's probably nothing, just an extended phase made extra appealing because Uther's eyes would bug out of his head if he knew about it. He thinks about Merlin's long, cool fingers wrapped around his cock and strokes himself to an unfairly fulfilling climax. It doesn't make him feel any better, because he knows he'll be in here again in an hour, tops. He's been doing this almost nonstop since meeting Merlin.

Stupid Merlin, he thinks, kicking the door on his way out. Stupid computers. Stupid hands.

Merlin calls three days later. He sounds bright and cheerful on the phone, a little tinny but unquestionably sincere. "Can you come in for it tomorrow?" he asks. "I know how you corporate types are, lost without your machines."

"How do you know I'm a corporate type?" Arthur says, "And yeah, I can come tomorrow. I'm off work at five."

"You came in a tie, and your laptop bag is all expensive and leather. It was either that or a doctor or something, and I don't really see you nursing people to better health. Sorry." He laughs unapologetically. "Anyway, I close at five on Wednesdays, but I've got some work to do so I'll be in the shop for most of the evening. Just ring the bell when you get here, and I'll come let you in."

"Right," Arthur says, his palms a little sweaty. "See you then."

"Bye, Arthur," Merlin says warmly, and hangs up the phone with a click.

By the time Arthur leaves the office on Wednesday, he's changed his tie three times, untucked his shirt and retucked it, then spilled tea down the shirt, meaning he has to change the shirt and put on yet another tie. Lunch hour was spent mostly wanking, and he's feeling really extremely fourteen, and he doesn't particularly like it. Still, after this, he'll probably never see Merlin again, and he ignores the twist in his stomach at that thought, and reminds himself that he can then get back to his life and not worry about perfect slender arms or endearing dimples ever again. That keeps him steady right up until he rings the bell at the store, at which point his hands promptly begin to shake.

Merlin opens the door with a wide smile, ushering him in and bolting the door behind him. He's clad in a frayed, faded t-shirt proclaiming that Spock is his homeslice, and his dark jeans are cut closely enough to cup his ass in a really unfairly appealing way.

"Come on back," Merlin says, and gestures for Arthur to follow him through a door behind the counter that leads down a hallway and into a space that is part sitting room, part workroom. Neat stacks of parts and heavy computer books rest around a large, comfortable sofa, and there's a row of bookshelves crammed with a combination of books and cables and interesting coils of wire. Merlin waves an arm at the couch and pats it in passing as he heads for a work bench and retrieves Arthur's laptop from it. Arthur sits, and a moment later Merlin joins him, setting the laptop on the lower table in front of them.

"Right," he says, opening it with his careful, precise fingers. "I think I've got you all sorted, here." He sounds like a doctor giving a diagnosis, and Arthur slumps into the couch. It's kind of hot, just like everything Merlin does.  
"Right," Merlin says again, and this time, he's gone bright eyed and professional, and his speech is quick and precise. "You had a nasty virus. Well, a worm, actually, but you get the idea. I isolated it, then quarantined it so it couldn't get into any more of your files. After that, I figured out which files it'd gone after and eliminated the corrupted information. Unfortunately, you lost a few files, but it looks like it was all just video downloads. All your word documents and whatnot were safe, so probably you haven't lost anything too valuable. Anyway, I backed up your drive, just to be safe, and I downloaded a free antivirus program that works surprisingly well, so that should help protect you in the future. This is a really non-intrusive program, and if anyone wants you to not use antivirus on their site, you should consider it a threat and find something else to look at." He hesitates, swallowing.

"That all sounds good," Arthur says encouragingly.

"Yeah, it's working fine now," Merlin says, and looks down at the computer. "But, listen, I don't normally go through people's files, but I had to, to figure out what'd been corrupted, and I think you need to seriously consider the porn sites you're using. Normally I wouldn't say anything, but you're going to be back in here within a week with the same situation if you don't take a little care to use sites that aren't loaded with malware, and I don't want people to think I can't do my job."

Arthur's throat is tight. "I don't know what you're talking about," he grits out, feeling suddenly sick. He wants to sit up, but the couch is too soft.

Merlin looks a little surprised. "Oh come on, you've got loads of stuff on that computer. It's like a quarter of your memory capacity. That amount of stuff doesn't show up by accident or anything, though don't tell my mum because I've certainly used that excuse, and that stuff is just rife with viruses."

Arthur wants to say, "Yeah okay, fine, I won't do it anymore," and take his laptop, slap down some money and leave, but somehow he finds himself saying, "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," and setting his jaw so hard he thinks he might've cracked a few teeth.

Merlin's confused look is fading, replaced by a look of vague annoyance, and he leans over, tapping a few keys in an easy, practiced motion that brings a folder to the fore and opens a video window, tabbing ahead a few minutes.

"Yeah, bend me over and fuck my tight asshole," the man in the video says enthusiastically, and Merlin glances over at him smugly.

Arthur has no idea what he could possibly say at this point, so he doesn't sat anything, just raises an eyebrow like it's the most normal thing in the world to be sitting here watching a guy fingering another guy over some seriously terrible background music.

Merlin swallows a little huff but takes the unspoken dare, looking straight at the computer screen with a determined glare. His eyes go wide when the fucking starts in earnest, and Arthur hears his breath catch a little. He allows himself one long, indulgent gaze at Merlin's hands clasped over the zip of his jeans. They go tense and white, his fingers pressed against his palms as the scene progresses.

"Hey," Merlin says a little shakily, and Arthur's gaze snaps guiltily upward. "You're not even looking at the screen," Merlin says, trailing off a little. Then. "Oh," he says slowly, and Arthur can hear the little stutter in his throat. "Oh," he says again, more forcefully, and now he turns to look directly at Arthur, comprehension dawning. "You- oh." With that, he reaches for Arthur, wrapping his fingers around his wrist, and oh god, they're so cool and smooth and perfect, and Merlin is launching himself into his lap and smashing their mouths together for a surprisingly frantic kiss, his tongue thrusting urgently into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur's first inclination is to throw Merlin off, violently proclaim his straightness, and then dash off in a fit of righteous masculinity. Who is he kidding, though, he's already hard and leaking in his trousers, and Merlin feels pretty damn masculine, rutting filthily against him as he bites at Arthur's lips, groaning as Arthur swipes a hand through his messy hair and pulls at it. Yeah, he's not going anywhere.

Merlin seems to sense this at the same time he does, and he places a hand flat against Arthur's chest and pushes him down on the couch, lifting up on his arms so Arthur can maneuver himself lengthwise. Then he's back, fitting over Arthur and sucking down the curve of his neck with a series of wet popping noises that make Arthur's hips hitch involuntarily. Their erections are aligned, this way, and the pressure, so new but so familiar as it presses into Arthur's cock, makes Arthur want to scream.

"You're so-" Merlin starts between pants. "Fuck, you're so hot." Have you ever done this before? With a man?" He tucks a finger into the knot of Arthur's tie and unwinds it, leaning back to pull it free, then starts on the buttons of Arthur's shirt. Arthur can't help but groan at the pressure of those fingers around each button, a ring of shivery sensation that spreads as Merlin drags his hand downward.

"No," he manages breathlessly. "Problem?"

Merlin's eyes go wide and dark, and he shakes his head emphatically. "No, God. No. Not a problem. Here, help."

He's got Arthur's shirt unbuttoned, and Arthur leans forward to help him remove it, then tugs his undershirt up over his head. "You too," he says, after a moment, and pulls on the hem of Merlin's t-shirt until he drags it off, freeing his pale, narrow torso.

He can't get enough of the feel of Merlin's skin, so solid and perfect against his own as his hands pass over it. Merlin leans close and Arthur's hands slip around to his back, stroking over the curve of his spine as Merlin's teeth graze sharply over a nipple, dragging a long shudder from him. Merlin's hand slides down over his stomach to rest over the zip of his trousers, stopping there.

"Can I?" he asks, and Arthur groans and rolls his hips.

"Yeah, do it."

"I think you might want to hold onto something," Merlin says, his voice low and dark and wicked, and he unzips Arthur's trousers, then his own, and pulls out both of their cocks. He stretches out over Arthur's body again, drawing his cock over Arthur's at an agonizingly slow pace. The feeling is almost unbearable, and Arthur gasps and twitches and sinks his fingers into Merlin's sides, urging him to thrust harder, faster.

Merlin chuckles and licks his hand, which shouldn't be hot but really, really is, and reaches down to take Arthur's erection in hand, stroking him slowly from head to base, his thumb pressing gently over the slit. Arthur maybe chokes a little, because fuck, those hands were beautiful when they were wrapped around a telephone, but that's nothing compared to the magic they work on his cock, all long and pale and surprisingly firm. Everything about Merlin is stronger than he looks.

Merlin releases his cock and Arthur whimpers, but Merlin just chuckles again and licks once more over the length of his palm, then reaches back down and wraps his hand around both their erections at once, rutting a little against Arthur's cock with a slick sound that has him gasping and writhing into the friction. His strokes grow more expansive, tighter, and Merlin falls forward onto his free arm, his breathing going swift and shivery. Arthur bucks up into the touch, gasping and pulling Merlin against him by his hips, so hard that it'll probably leave bruises.

"Gonna come," he manages, not sure exactly what the protocol is, but Merlin gasps against his mouth, leaning a little forward to kiss him messily, and speeds up both his hand and his own thrusts, his gasps turning to genuine moans as Arthur's hips begin to tremble. He can't quite strangle the noise in his throat when he comes, and it's so shocking, so unfathomably better than anything else he's ever felt, that he's left whimpering, even as Merlin lets loose a hoarse groan and comes against him, adding to the slick mess between them.

Merlin's arm gives way with a tremble, and he collapses onto Arthur's chest, either not noticing or not caring about the mess. Arthur sighs, terrified but also elated, and wraps a hesitant arm around Merlin's back. Merlin arches into it, catlike, and shifts a little to press his face against Arthur's chest, his nose brushing the curve of his neck. He manages to shove a foot under Arthur's leg, pressing insistently until Arthur takes the hint and tangles their legs up together, sighing and shifting them both onto their sides. Merlin blinks slowly, looks up at him through still half-closed eyes, and presses a slow, indulgent kiss upon his lips.

"So," Arthur slurs lazily, too satisfied to pull away from Merlin's mouth. "What do I owe you for the computer?"

Merlin furrows his brow, his fingertips drifting over Arthur's sweat-slick jaw. "Hmm. How about dinner?"

Arthur can't help his ridiculous grin. "Dinner sounds perfect."


End file.
